The Past Came Hunting (5 page)

“I gave him permission. I’m not completely heartless, Mrs. Norris. Matt wanted to check on Luke.”

Joe’s tone must’ve not set well. She arched an eyebrow and looked toward the door like he carried a disease, and she wasn’t about to stand there and catch it. “Fine. That’s all I came to say.”

“How is he?” Joe didn’t want her to leave. Not yet. Melanie Norris intrigued him.

She shoved her hands in her back pockets, pulling tight the ribbed sweater. “Luke?”

Immediately Joe’s gaze fell from her face to her breasts. He jerked his head upward. With the fire reflecting in eyes the color of the bourbon on his shelf, he issued a silent
Damn.

“He’s okay, I guess. Disappointed. He thinks his life’s over because he’ll be on crutches for a week. But Coach Hood will have Luke riding a stationary bike and working with the trainers. . .” Evidently remembering that Joe was the enemy, Melanie’s lips formed a straight line. “Anyway, thanks for letting Matt come over. It means a lot to Luke.” She turned to leave.

“Mrs. Norris.”

She faced him. “Yes?”

“Why did you stay in Cañon City?”

“What?”

“I’m curious. Why not leave after you were paroled? Why stay in a place that, no doubt, must’ve held bad memories?”

Two red stains appeared on her cheeks and she lowered her lashes.

The damn file, Joe thought. It’s true. For some crazy reason, he’d hoped she’d explain it away.

“I’m surprised you don’t already know the answer to that, Lieutenant.”

“I’ve heard one side. I want your version.”

Her hip brushed a ruler resting on the edge of the desk. She managed to catch it before it fell. Her eyes flashed as she smacked it against her palm. “I don’t owe you an explanation, so I’m only going to say this once. Luke is a
good
kid. No matter what you think of me, he doesn’t deserve your wrath. And why I stayed is
none of your business
.”

She struck the desk, obviously to stress her point, but the flimsy plastic snapped in two. Her anger dissolved into wide-eyed astonishment and her cheeks flushed even redder. Thrusting the remainder of his ruler at Joe, she said, “Great. Next, you’ll press charges against me for destroying your property. I promise, if you
spare
me, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Melanie...”

But he was talking to air. He’d pushed, she’d pushed back.

As the screen door slammed, Joe lifted his gaze to the den’s picture window, then followed her progress into her home’s side entry.

Well, you might’ve handled that better
. But when had he ever handled anything outside of cop mode? Joe traced his fingers over the ruler’s jagged edge. It resembled their relationship, sharp and broken. Living side by side, he knew they couldn’t keep the boys apart. So his son would be hanging out with a convicted felon’s kid. Melanie was wrong. It
was
his business, damn it.

Joe drew back the blinds. He studied the front of his neighbor’s house, absurdly relieved to see Rick’s ancient gold Camaro no longer parked at the curb.

Where the hell was the fury Joe had felt when he’d learned her identity in the parking lot? Or this morning when he’d read the parole officer’s disturbing report? His reactions were hardly appropriate for a police veteran of twenty-two years.

You’re going to like her, Joe.

Like her? Melanie Norris scared the shit out of him. She bordered on too good to be true. And no matter how much she viewed his questions as an invasion of privacy, or unless she packed up and became someone
else’s
neighbor, he meant to learn every sordid detail.

Chapter Six

Joe had numerous character flaws. Indecisiveness wasn’t one of them. Yet, as he entered Warden Simon Rivers’ office to wait, the soundness and ethics of coming here weighed heavily on Joe’s mind.

Particularly since the warden Joe had come to talk to most likely had never heard of Drake Maxwell.

The East Cañon Complex where Joe now stood housed seven prisons, from minimum to close security, high-risk offenders. Maxwell had been incarcerated in the Colorado State Penitentiary, a prison ranked level V. No big surprise there. But the man Joe had come to see supervised the Arrowhead Correctional Center, a level III facility.

Two years previously, however, before it closed, Simon had been warden of the Colorado Women’s Correctional Facility, the prison where Melanie Daniels had done time.

So what was Joe doing here? His job, he told himself, or at least what was necessary. Maxwell was a book already read, Melanie Daniels Norris an unfinished novel.

Warden Rivers had been detained, his secretary explained. To pass the time, Joe peered out the window of the top man’s office, finding nothing aesthetic about miles of razor wire, guard towers and cinderblock fencing. From the northwest, a storm was rolling in, and with clouds the color of charcoal, and not a patch of blue sky to be seen, snow threatened.

Beneath Joe’s jacket, his shoulder holster lay conspicuously empty. He missed the 9 mm Glock he’d locked in his trunk. Inside the prison, he’d be required to turn the gun over to security. Call him paranoid, but he trusted his weapon to no one.

The door opened, and a winded man with a graying crew cut and wire-rimmed glasses entered. “Lieutenant Crandall? Simon Rivers.” He extended his hand. “I apologize. My meeting ran long.”

Simon had an intelligent face and a grip that inspired Joe to believe if anyone could help him, this man could. “I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice.”

“Not a problem. Why don’t we sit down?” Simon looped his trench coat on a tree rack beside the Colorado State flag and dropped into a chair behind his desk.

Joe took the proffered seat.

“Frankly, your phone call intrigued me. Information about a former convict. Is this pertaining to a case you’re working on?”

Here came a sticking point. If the information Joe sought wasn’t relevant to an active case, the prison head was under no obligation to talk to him.

“It’s a closed case, generating new interest,” Joe said, hedging. “It’s not pertaining to a male convict, Warden. It concerns a female inmate. How long were you warden at the women’s correctional facility?”

“Seven years. But before that time, I worked as a corrections officer for nearly twenty-four.”

Excellent. Chances were Simon had known both Melanie Daniels and her prison guard lover. “I’m hoping you can shed some light on a few things.”

The warden leaned forward. Linking his hands together, he rested his forearms on his desk. “I’ll provide whatever information I can. I’m bound by confidentiality, you understand. What’s the convict’s name?”

“Melanie Daniels.”

Simon didn’t even blink, but the color leached from his face. Joe was an expert in reading people under interrogation. And although Simon didn’t flinch or change facial expressions, Joe suspected the man’s heart rate and blood pressure had just elevated.

“She was a prisoner in the women’s facility fifteen years ago, Warden.”

“I know who Melanie Daniels is, Lieutenant.” Simon rose from his chair. “This meeting is over.”

Maintaining a calm he didn’t feel, Joe remained in his seat. This certainly wasn’t the reaction he’d expected from a colleague. “Mind if I ask why?”

“Confidentiality issues. I made myself clear.”

“I merely gave you her name. I never asked a question.”

Simon glared at him. “Melanie Daniels was incarcerated in the Colorado Women’s Correctional Facility for a period of nine months. She was an exemplary prisoner who served an abbreviated sentence and then was released. I’ll see you out.”

Joe tamped down his frustration. He’d come for answers, but this wasn’t his turf. If the warden wanted him gone, he didn’t exactly have choices. Preparing to abide by the man’s request, Joe took one final gamble. “Her married name is Norris now. She recently lost her husband.”

Simon took his hand from the knob. He turned, pinning Joe with a look that made it clear his allegiance ran elsewhere. “What’s this about, Lieutenant? Is Mrs. Norris all right?”

“She’s fine, Warden. I have a personal stake in coming here. I’d appreciate it if you’d talk to me.”

Some of the color returned to Simon’s face. “Give me a second.” Opening the door, he said to his secretary, “Elizabeth, no phone calls. No interruptions from anyone.”

“Yes, Warden Rivers.”

He shut the door, slowly returning to the executive chair.

On the credenza behind him sat family pictures. The walls held diplomas, awards, and a picture of the man with the governor.

Simon took so long to speak, Joe resisted checking his watch.

“When you say personal,” the warden finally asked, “what do you mean?”

“I was her arresting officer.”

“I don’t follow.”

“She moved in next door.”

The warden squeezed his eyes shut. “Well, I’ll be damned.” Two seconds later, though, his expression hardened. “But the fact that you made an arrest doesn’t entitle you―”

“Do you have children, Warden?”

“Three grown boys. What has that got to do with anything?”

“Mrs. Norris has a son the same age as mine.” Joe held out his hands. “They’re spending every waking hour together. I realize I’ve exceeded my authority. But if it was your son, and a woman with a questionable past had the power to influence him, what would you do?”

Simon stood and strode to the window. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he jingled the coins within and stared out into the prison yard. “I wouldn’t be too happy.”

“I’m not here to hurt her, Warden. I give you my word.”

For a time Simon faced the window. At last he pivoted, the struggle at violating not only Melanie’s confidence, but her civil rights, deepening the lines in his face. “What I told you before was true. Melanie
was
exemplary. I was a lieutenant when she was processed, although I never interacted with her. It was common knowledge, however, that we had a youngster on our hands, and she was having a rough go of it.”

Surprised at how much he didn’t want to know this part, Joe leaned forward. Ignoring what he knew of Melanie Norris now, he focused on what she had been. “How rough?”

“Young, pretty girl, new to the system. You know the drill. Some women behind bars are predators, vicious. Oftentimes more so than men.”

Joe set his jaw. Years of law enforcement played through his mind as he considered what Melanie might’ve gone through behind these walls. No doubt about it, at times the job sucked.

“Naturally she got into scrapes at first,” the warden said. “Ended up in the infirmary once with eyes swollen shut and a broken rib. Turned out, though, that Melanie was tough. She also had something most inmates don’t. Brains. She formed an alliance with one of the leaders on the block, taught her to read, helped her earn her G.E.D. That smart move put Melanie under the woman’s protection.”

Joe discovered he’d been holding his breath. As the air left his lungs, he gained a greater respect for the term
sigh of relief
.

“From that point she kept mostly to herself, spending much of her time in the prison’s greenhouse. From there, you know the rest. Her first hearing came around and she was paroled.”

“Why do you suppose she stayed in Cañon City?” Joe asked.

“The way I heard it, she had nowhere else to go.”

“Family?”

“Mother’s dead. Hasn’t spoken to her father in years.”

Joe filed her family history away for later. Odd, the warden hadn’t mentioned a pregnancy. “How’d she make ends meet after her release?”

“She went to work as a nanny.”

“A nanny,” Joe repeated.

“For one of the correction officers. A man by the name of Carl Norris.”

“Her dead husband?”

“One and the same.”

Simon moved away from the window and returned to his chair.

Joe shook his head. “Warden, I don’t know how to say this tactfully, so I won’t even try. A report I read from her parole officer claims she had an affair with a corrections officer during her sentence and became pregnant.”

The warden studied Joe, the accusation heavy between them. “I remember the parole officer. A weasel of a man who tried to force parolees into having sex with him. He later lost his job and was sued after harassing dozens of women.

“Naturally, the rumors flew like buckshot when Carl hired her, even kept him from being promoted. It’s human nature to think the worst.”

“Did Carl work on Melanie’s block?”

“No. But they knew each other. Did they have an affair? I never believed it.”

“She
is
a beautiful woman,” Joe pointed out. “Like the parole officer, it wouldn’t be the first time a man used his position―”

“Not Carl,” Simon replied heatedly. “Carl Norris was one of my best friends. He was a man of principle. I assure you he wasn’t soft on the convicts who needed to be here. Nor was he cavalier about his marriage. As the saying goes, ‘desperate times called for desperate measures.’ Melanie didn’t belong in prison. We recognized that soon after she got here. She was a kid. Misguided, but she was a kid.

“Then as fate would have it,” the warden went on, “days before her parole, Carl’s wife died in a collision on 115.”

God, no,
Joe thought.

“When others wouldn’t even think of it, Carl gave Mel a chance. It wasn’t like he had a helluva lot of choice, he had a six-week-old baby boy to consider.”

Several moments lapsed before the statement sunk in. When it did, Joe felt like he’d been sucker-punched. Melanie hadn’t been pregnant. Perhaps she’d rejected the parole officer’s advances, and taking his revenge, he altered his report. “Luke. She’s not his biological mother.”

Warden Rivers speared Joe with a look that said he’d made the connection. It also hinted at how deep Simon’s feelings ran. “And now you know. Melanie Norris lived in this town for quite a few years. People liked her, respected her. She’s not the big bad wolf, Lieutenant. What’s more, she may not have given birth to Luke, but I’ve never heard it said by anyone that she’s not that boy’s mother in every other way.”